He was roused from his slumber by a distant clang, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Muffled voices floated through the air from the other side of his door, and soon he detected movement. Slowly, the door began to creak open.

The man remained seated on his cot, observing his unexpected visitors. Their uniforms caught his attention, appearing unfamiliar and peculiar. Yet, the logo they bore was all too recognizable: USPF, an acronym that served as a somber reminder of the outside world he had been separated from.

"Get up. Get dressed," grunted the shorter guard, his tone devoid of sympathy. "Your hearing is today."

"We'll be waiting outside," the larger one stated, tossing him a neatly folded jumpsuit before making his exit, followed closely by his companion. And then, from beyond the confines of the cell, he heard laughter—a sound that had become alien to his ears. How long had it been since he last heard someone laugh? Decades, perhaps?

How long had he been confined to his secluded existence? He used to have a hearing once a year... or was it every five years? The passage of days and years had become an indistinguishable blur long ago.

Now fully dressed, he stumbled out of the cell, each step a struggle. "What is the date?"

"It's your anniversary, of course," retorted the smaller guard, forcefully pushing him down the corridor. "Ten. Ten."

He remembered. He had entered this prison on October 10, 2019. Merely three days later, he was relocated to solitary confinement—for his own safety, they claimed. They called it his shell.

"What year is it?"

"69, old man. 69."

The man staggered forward, his mind spinning. Dear God, had he truly been confined within his shell for fifty years? It couldn't be. That would mean he was nearly seventy. How was he still alive? How was his body able to move? How was his mind still functioning?

Or was it?

Red.

The wall boasted a conspicuous button, painted in a vibrant shade of red. He hadn't laid eyes on that color in... five years. It appeared foreign, as if plucked from the realm of dreams.

"Can you hear me, prisoner?" a strangely soothing voice asked from his left.

The man jolted back to awareness, realizing he had lost consciousness once again. There was clearly something wrong with his brain, but he couldn't dwell on that now. "Yes, I can hear you."

"Very well, this is your exit hearing. We need to determine what to do with you. Do you understand? You have completed your fifty-year sentence, and..." There was a long pause. "Pending our evaluation, you will be released."

It was a woman speaking. That was what set her voice apart. A female presence in this desolate place. He couldn't recall the last time he had encountered a woman. His judge had been a woman. He could still picture her, the disdain etched on her face as she sentenced him to fifty years in a maximum-security facility.

She spoke again. "...anything to consider? Any family? Any place to go?"

The man shook his head. He was utterly alone. Even during the trial, he had been alone.

A tall, stern-looking man shifted on his right, and for the first time, the prisoner noticed the others seated around the table.

He scanned their faces, but they revealed no emotions. To them, he was just another faceless inmate, insignificant. Did they even know why he was there?

Two of them weren't even physically present in the room. He remembered the first time he had encountered a holographic avatar. They had come a long way since then, much more lifelike...

"...my opinion," the man was saying, "this prisoner will struggle to adapt to the outside world. He fits the criteria for our transitional facilities. I recommend a three-month stay with us, where he can receive... the complete treatment."

"Very well, Doctor," the woman in charge responded. "He's..."

A muffled laugh interrupted her, and she shot an annoyed glance at the holographic judge on her left. "What's so amusing?"

"Apologies. His crime is now classified as a misdemeanor," a youthful voice chimed in through the metallic face. "I just found it ironic, that's all."

"Yes, well. As I was saying..." She turned back to the doctor. "He's now under your care."